


And Then We Turned Into A Spaceship Together

by Starshower



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Loss of Identity, Outer Space, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 13:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starshower/pseuds/Starshower
Summary: Bill accepts Heather's offer. The Doctor wasn't exactly right about what that would mean, but also wasn't exactly wrong.(Spoilers for The Pilot, not anything after.)(Also: apologies for general lack of quality.)





	And Then We Turned Into A Spaceship Together

Bill reached out her hand and felt Heather's touch against her fingers. Wet and cold but there was warmth there somewhere;

she saw the stars, she saw the sun, she saw the dancing dust between galaxies, she heard the Doctor's voice from somewhere outside her and she thought—

No.

She heard Heather's heart, beating within the water, and she said—

"Yes."

* * *

The oil flowed over her skin like wind, or like a vacuum cleaner, sucking her in and cold, cold, why did she say yes? It beat somewhere, weakly then stronger. She could hear her own heart. Stronger, and than weaker. She wouldn't be able to hear, soon, if that sound was her own or the other's.

"Bill."

She felt the word in her skin, in her hair; "Bill."

 _Bill Potts_ , she thought, and heard it echo.

"Bill," she heard, "I promised."

 **Heather.** The second beat was stronger, and louder, and _nearer_ , and now she could remember who it was. Who it had to be.

"Heather," she thought, trying to press out, through the cold, out and find her, let her know she could hear her. "Heather, I can hear you, I'm here. You found me."

There was something warm, and moving. Not pulling but tying, coming closer with purpose. Bill made herself have purpose, made herself move, and in amongst the water they came together.

Finding Heather was like breaking the surface, like breathing air again instead of drowning. There was something light about her, like the sun on her face the last time she'd seen her human, and even though they were in fact both technically absorbed into whatever alien space ship oil thing and possibly kind of dead? Bill managed to feel free.

The water—oil? water? liquid?—clung to them still but together (together) Bill could think again. She thought, right then, I need to talk to the Doctor, I need to have a face and eyes and mouth so I can look at him and say thank you, or goodbye—She pushed herself out and found her jaw gaping. Closed it.

"Bill!" he cried. She smiled, she thought.  
"Doctor," she said. "I found her." That was the important thing. What else was there? "Goodbye."  
There. That was done. Now back.

There was some kind of vibration on the surface, like deep bass shaking your skin, but that wasn't important anymore, or ever again. They had places to go, now: anywhere.

 _I want to leave._ Heather, must be. _Let's go!_ And Bill. _Let's go find a star, or twelve of them._

* * *

They were together, and they pushed—pulled—something else was there, the ship itself had somewhere to go, a mother to find, but they didn't want that. So they held, tight, mind and mind, until the flat metal disappeared from underneath and the time winds scoured their surface. Then there was no room for cross-pulling; they all wanted the same thing in the vortex: stay in one piece.

Around a star they could be droplets, spread out in a long arc—Heather was wondering if they could ring the whole sun; Bill was considering the average diameters she knew; the third one between was calculating how dilute its substance could become before losing all cohesion. They could rest, for a time, glinting in unfiltered starlight, simply glistening to the cosmic waves pulsing through the vacuum.

There came an aching from their companion, after a time, a wistfulness for a whole that it had been. The other two understood that, quite well; it was something that they had felt too, many moments. But they pulled back, out, on; hadn't they already found whom they needed? Dissonance churned between them, and bit by bit they made a decision, each of the three, to move _out_ , out of time, toward another.

This was a different journey, screaming and tearing. Nothing held them but leaving, and not wanting to be left. It held until they caught, a break in the vortex pulling them in, out of time and into space.

Something was there, and not there. It had a shape, but not a space; it reflected light, but had no gravity. There was a void there that was suddenly easy to trickle into, to flow through, to fill up. And then they recognised the shape. The angles, the slats, the round places. The gun. 

The eye, too; they looked out and saw smoke, wounded stone; some objects that might have been alive, recently, and some living beings that might be scared, now. _Talk_ said one and _leave_ said the third and _help_ said the first once again. For a moment they hung, rain drop suspended, before the pressure away pulled them out of that time, again, out to the stars, and on.

They managed to take approximately 50% of the Dalek (by mass) with them, though.


End file.
